


myth

by midi_chi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Experimental Style, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Poetry, Prose Poem, Suicide Attempt, english isn't my first language, i was told it feels like a horror story was told by a child, is it?, it's bad isn't it, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 05:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midi_chi/pseuds/midi_chi
Summary: Prometheus was a young boy with burned hands.





	myth

**Hands**

Prometheus was  
      a young boy with burned hands.  
He couldn't remember his mother's face  
      but it seemed he used to love her;  
His father thought he was the bravest man alive  
      though he feared everything.  
And he feared the most  
      Prometheus' hands.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Kids**

Other children thought  
      Prometheus’ burns were cool,  
            but they didn’t allow him to touch their things:  
Sometimes Prometheus' hands  
      were dripping with fire, so kids were afraid  
            he would ruin everything.  
Therefore, Prometheus had to learn  
      to hide his hands  
            so he would not frighten the children  
And his father.  
      He had to learn to do everything  
            using only his thoughts.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Paths**

Handled thoughts  
      led Prometheus  
            to the future,  
And thoughtless hands  
      dragged Prometheus  
            into the past.  
Cold, they  
      paved his way along  
            the lake of life.  
Hot, they  
      melted the ice  
            which he walked.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Lava**

The fire in his hands interfered  
      with the life of adult Prometheus;  
So, Prometheus decided  
      to free it.  
He bared the burnt bowels,  
      but instead of fire, lava flowed:  
Viscid and glowing,  
      it reminded him of blood.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Bonds**

Prometheus has never  
      wore bracelets:  
They ruffled  
      his burnt hands.  
But white serpents said  
      he should wear these:  
“They’d help  
      to stop the lava.”

  
**° ° ° ° °**

 

**Serpents**

The poison of white serpents  
      filled the cup of  
            his thoughts,  
The softness of the bracelets  
      buried the lava of  
            his hands.  
They were coiling,  
      intertwining,  
            merging;  
They were trembling,  
      tearing,  
            and cracking.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Bird**

Every day Prometheus  
      would see the Bird.  
It would fly in,  
      feed on his liver,  
Fishing out  
      all the spongy feelings,  
And come back  
      for more.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Boy**

One day Prometheus  
      was visited by a boy:  
His face  
      scattered with stars,  
His eyes  
      black and daring  
His name  
      Heracles.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Fear**

Heracles said  
      Prometheus should  
            leave.  
Prometheus said  
      he has lava  
            in his hands,  
And it would ruin  
      something if he  
            leave.  
The boy  
      ripped off his soft  
            bracelets.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Desert**

Prometheus feared  
      fire, dripping down his hands,  
Or even  
      lava, looking like blood again,  
But he only saw  
      few angry flaws:  
Bare bowels  
      morphed to desert.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Parting**

At parting, Heracles  
      gave him a ring.  
“Those bracelets,”  
      he said,  
“Must stay  
      with white serpents.”  
Prometheus has never  
      wore rings.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Ring**

It was cold,  
      tenacious,  
            solid.  
It reminded  
      Prometheus  
            of his own thoughts  
And how  
      he’d learn  
            to use them.  
But there was  
      no harm  
            in his hands anymore.

  
**° ° ° ° °**

**Prometheus**

Prometheus was  
      a man with deserted hands.  
He remembered  
      the fishing of his spongy feelings,  
And the dripping fire,  
      flowing with the bloody lava.  
His father would never fear  
      Prometheus' hands again.


End file.
